REDEMPTION
Using the sins of Pride and Lust.
She stood before his desk, dressed in the standard uniform of the school: a
navy, pleated skirt, ending just above her knees, matching socks pulled up
high, plain brown shoes, a crisp white blouse with a small tie down the
front. Isabelle looked at the man in front of her. He had not looked up
since she knocked on the opened door and announced her presence. He had
simply motioned her to come in and close the door behind her, and she had
hastily complied.
Finally, Father Rick sat back in his chair, his gaze firm and unrelenting as
he looked at the young woman who stood before him. Isabelle met his eyes,
as she licked her lips nervously. Some would say he looked severe in his
black suit and white collar, but not her. He looked so handsome to her.
His voice brought her quickly out of her musings. "Do you have any idea why
you're here in my office, Isabelle?"
She anxiously shifted from foot to foot. Isabelle really did not know why
she was here. She was a straight A student, top of her class. To be called
into the Dean of Students' office was not a good thing. Usually Father Rick
only dealt with the 'troubled' ones. "N-n-no, Sir. I do not."
He stood up and walked around the desk to stand directly in front of her.
She had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. She could sense the power
beneath that suit. His muscles almost seemed to coil as if at any moment he
would pounce. Isabelle felt a rush of heat in her body. Confused, not
understanding its meaning, she lowered her head, unable to look at him.
"I have been hearing some disturbing things about you, Isabelle," Father
Rick said coolly. When she did not answer immediately, he continued, "Take
off your underwear and hand it to me."
Startled she looked up at him. She must have misunderstood. "I'm sorry, I
thought you said..."
"You heard me correctly. Do it." It was a command, not a request. Still,
she hesitated. It was not proper for a young woman to be without her
undergarments. He could not really mean...
"Now."
His tone was like a flick of a whip, harshly cutting through the otherwise
silent room. Without another thought, she carefully reached up her skirt,
leaving it as long as possible to cover her body, as she pulled down the
cotton cloth panties and held it out for him.
Without a word he took it and examined the inside. His fingers touched the
crotch lining, and then rubbed them together under his nose, inhaling
deeply. A frown marred his face. "It's wet."
She didn't understand. Sometimes that happened. In fact, she could feel it
happening now, as she shifted nervously from foot to foot.
"Stop fidgeting and be still, Isabelle." He waited until she complied
before continuing. "This is a very serious matter. Do you remember the
seven deadly sins?"
"Of course, Sir," Isabelle replied, her confidence somewhat restored. This
she could do. "Greed, pride, sloth, gluttony, envy, wrath, and lust," she
rhymed off automatically.
"Ah, yes. Lust. You are lusting after someone, Isabelle. Your damp
panties prove it." He looked at her thoughtfully, calculatingly even.
Her face flushed a dull red. She shook her head in denial. He must not
ever know.
SLAM!
Father Rick's hand smacked down on the desk. "Lying is also a sin,
Isabelle." Her lower lip started to tremble, as she looked at his
thunderous expression. "I am your priest, and it is about time you
confessed your sins. Lust is one of the most serious of the sins, and
easily seduces weak willed people. It must be confronted, and you must
conquer it in order to secure your place in Heaven. It is wrong to lust
after anyone."
Isabelle's brain scrambled as she tried to divert him from his path. "What
of when I marry? Is it wrong to lust after my husband after we are wed as
well?"
"Yes, Isabelle," Father Rick replied with confidence. "Even him. Lust is
dangerous in all its forms. When the day comes you are wed, you will
perform your wifely duties, only on the days sanctioned by the church. You
will do so because you have to. Not because you want to. And most
certainly not because you like it. Sex is not something that should be
enjoyed. It is a matter of procreation only. To bring more people under
our Lord's protection and guidance."
"But, you are evading the issue at hand, Isabelle." Leaving her panties on
his desk, he closed the distance between them; his hand gripped her upper
arms tightly. She thought he was going to shake her, but instead he just
eased her closer to him, so that her body was almost touching his. "Who is
it you are lusting after?"
She could not look at him. She knew she would disappoint him terribly. She
strived to be perfect in the eyes of the Lord. Or maybe it was Father
Rick's whom she was trying to impress. Either way, she had failed.
She could feel the heat of his body and felt her breasts start to tingle.
It was so strange to her, to be feeling like this. The bra she was wearing
suddenly felt so tight, constricting her chest. It was distracting her,
clouding her mind.
Father Rick's thumbs gently stroked her forearms. "Your thoughts are
confused, Isabelle. You need my guidance. Do not hide from me. Let me
help you."
"It is you."
Her voice was little more than a whisper, but it seemed loud and harsh to
her ears. Immediately Father Rick released her and took a step away. She
looked up in alarm at loss of his touch, a small whimper escaping her lips.
Father Rick looked at her, his expression veiled, as he sat on the edge of
his desk. "To lust is a great sin, but to lust after a man of the cloth who
has devoted himself to serving God...that, Isabelle, is a sin which will
send you straight to the gates of Hell itself."
Terrified, Isabelle took a step forward, her body trembling. "Please, you
have to help me!" she begged him. She did not want to go to Hell. "I did
not mean for it to happen. I try not to think about you like that..."
"And yet you do."
His words mocked her. Had she really tried? Would she spend all eternity
burning in unimaginable pain just because she had wondered what it would be
like to be kissed by him? She blinked rapidly, a single tear falling down
her cheek. "Please...Father. You have to help me."
Father Rick looked at her, his eyes filled with pity. "I try to help all of
the children of God. But you must be willing to repent. You must be
willing to do whatever I tell you to do to for penance. But first, and most
importantly, we must assess how far this lust goes and vanquish it from your
body. Can you do that for me, Isabelle?"
Tears were flowing openly and freely down her face now. "Yes, Father.
Anything. I will do anything."
"Good. First I need to examine the extent of problem. Take off your
clothes, Isabelle. All of them."
Her first thought was to protest again. She had never stood naked before a
man before. Never had she let one see her body and the secrets that she
kept hidden between her legs. "But I thought that only my husband..."
He cut her off. "You need to trust me, Isabelle. I am a follower of God.
I only have your best interests at heart. I am only doing this for your own
good." When she still hesitated he continued, "Of course, if you'd rather
go to Hell...."
"No!" Her whole being protested at the thought. So she reached down and
took off her socks and shoes. Her hands moved to her skirt, but then she
remembered the lack of underwear and instead moved to her blouse. Not that
it would really matter, she was only delaying the inevitable. But the sense
of shame filled her at the thought of baring herself for another, caused her
to procrastinate. Her fingers shook as she slowly undid her buttons. One
at a time her creamy flesh was exposed to his gaze. She glanced up at him,
but his expression was unreadable. Again, stalling for time, she folded her
blouse neatly and laid it on a chair. She turned her back to him, as she
fumbled with her bra.
The cool air hit her breasts and the tingling sensations increased.
Isabelle looked down to watch in mortification as her nipples hardened. No,
that shouldn't be happening. She was sure of it. A red-hot stab of shame
flooded her being. Father Rick was right. She did need help.
All that was left was her skirt. The zipper rasped loudly, as she pulled it
down. It was about half way when it suddenly got stuck. She tugged harder
on it, but it did not budge. Frustrated, she started to yank at the fabric.
A pair of strong, warm hands closed around her hips, stilling her movements.
Isabelle forgot to breathe. For a moment time stood still, as the heat of
his hands warmed her body far more than anything else ever had. "Let me
help you." His voice sounded deeper to her ears, husky almost. Was he
talking about her zipper? Or the growing feelings inside her that she did
not fully understand?
She did not move a muscle, as she felt her skirt leave her body. She felt
somehow detached, as if she were dreaming and this was not real.
Automatically she stepped out of the garment, leaving her completely naked.
She simply stood there, waiting. For what, she was not sure.
All too soon Father Rick stepped out from behind her and was in front of her
again. Immediately, her eyes widened as they flew to his hand. She knew
that ruler. It had only been once, long ago, when she was a little girl and
had snuck into the kitchen to take a cookie. Isabelle knew that it was
wrong, but the cookies were so yummy, and she was sure no one would miss
one. However, she had been caught and brought before Father Rick. He had
spanked her mercilessly with that flexible piece of plastic until she had
sobbed uncontrollably and swore that she would never, ever steal again.
Isabelle dropped her head, her face flaming. Would he spank her again? Her
body quivered at the thought. She had not thought of that incident in
years, but suddenly it seemed very important, although the full significance
of it she could not fathom.
As she looked down, her gaze fell upon her erect nipples, causing a deeper
shade of red to grace her cheeks. She saw the ruler, the short end of it
coming slowly up under her left nipple, lifting it slightly. "Do you think
this is proper?" Father Rick's voice was gentle, as if explaining some
valuable piece of information to a small child.
Isabelle's throat closed tightly, making it difficult to breathe, let alone
speak. So she simply shook her head. "It is a sign of your lust, Isabelle.
Something which must be purged."
Without warning, the ruler sliced through the air, the flat side landing
firmly across her breast and nipple, eliciting a scream of pain from
Isabelle. She took a step back, away from her tormentor, her chest aching
painfully. "Do not retreat from me, girl," his voice was harsh now. She
could sense the anger in him. "Face your fate and purge your sins."
She let out a soft cry, as the ruler smacked across her sensitive peak
again, but this time she did not back away. However, he seemed not to be
pleased with her earlier transgression, for he repeatedly hit her over and
over again, both breasts glowing red from the blows. Isabelle withstood the
pain as long as she could, until finally she started to sob. She
desperately wanted to beg him to stop but knew it would do no good. Father
Rick had a reputation for being unrelenting. It was only as she started to
shake that the ruler ebbed, and finally stopped. The girl could not look at
him. She only hoped that he had finished what needed to be done, and she
could leave. Never had she felt so humiliated in her entire life. She only
wanted to run and hide.
A pair of warm hands on her shoulder soothed her. "You are doing well,
Isabelle." Those hands steered her, and she moved with them, not knowing
where she was going and not caring. His fingers caressed her gently as he
lead her, and she felt a warmth seep through her body once more. "Lie down
on the table, Isabelle. I need to examine you, to see if this is working or
if you are in need of more aid."
She looked down at the glass coffee table in front of her. It was not long
enough for her entire body and just wide enough to fit her from shoulder to
shoulder. Without hesitation she laid down, feeling the coolness of the
glass beneath her back and buttocks. She stared unseeingly at the ceiling
above her, hoping this would soon be over, and she could leave. Her legs
were pressed tightly together, the table supporting her head to the back of
her knees. Her feet were touch the thin area rug on the floor, but it
offered no warmth.
Isabelle could hear some movement behind her but dared not look. She did
not want to upset him further. Then Father Rick was above her, looking
down, smiling kindly. She watched as he pulled the latex gloves over his
fingers. She chewed her lower lip nervously. "Why are you wearing gloves?"
Her voice was little more than a squeak, but she needed to know. The urge
to get up and run out of the office, regardless of the fact she was naked,
was strong. It took all her will to fight the panic inside her.
"I am a priest of God. I cannot touch you with my flesh. That would be a
sin, Isabelle." She nodded as if that made all the sense in the world, as
he continued, "I am just going to have a quick look, and if all is well, you
can leave. I will have completed the will of God and succeeded in my task
to bring you back into His good graces."
She lifted her head and watched, as the priest moved down to the other end
of the table, kneeling in front of her legs. Isabelle pressed them more
firmly together, suddenly very, very afraid. He only smiled at her. "Trust
me, Isabelle. I am a man of integrity. A servant of God. I have helped
countless girls just like you, and they have been better for it. I know
what I am doing."
Isabelle's heart started to race, as she felt his hands on her knees, slowly
pushing them apart. She could not look; she simply could not. She closed
her eyes tightly, hoping that it would soon be over. She tried to pretend
she was somewhere else; that it wasn't happening to her. A beach. Yes, a
nice warm beach, with the sun shining brightly down on her body. She could
feel the cool air hit the hidden folds of her skin, made all the more potent
by the wetness which had collected there. She squeezed her eyes tightly
shut, her hands fisted forcefully at her sides, as she tried to still the
nervous trembling in her legs. It would be over soon.
"Isabelle," his voice whispered in her ear, making her practically jump.
She had not realized he had moved, but Father Rick was now kneeling beside
her head. Still not having found her voice, she only opened her eyes and
looked at him. "You have grown considerably since the last time you were in
my office. You have hair down there now," he gestured ever so slightly with
his head in the direction of her hips, "and I cannot see. I will need to
shave it off so that I may ascertain what is happening."
"You have to...to.... shave?" Isabelle was shocked to the core. She could
not believe it was happening. "But...but...." The other girls in the school
would see. Their washing area was simply a collection of showerheads
together in one large room. There was no privacy. They would ask what had
happened. What would she tell them? Her face turned beet red. "There must
be another way." She clutched his suit jacket in her hand, crushing the
delicate garment in her fist. She knew she should not be touching him at
all; it was forbidden. "Please...I will do anything you ask of me, but
please, not that. Anything, Father." She couldn't let the other girls know
her shameful secret. She could not let them know about the lust inside her,
the sins that haunted her. She was an outstanding student. Others looked
up to her. "Please," she begged him, her eyes pleading with him to have
mercy.
"It is the only way."
His words sapped the strength out of her, as she let go of his jacket, her
arm falling lifelessly across her chest. She winced as it made contact with
her sore, aching breasts, and immediately let it roll off onto her abdomen.
It was the only way. The only way. Only.
A tear escaped, rolling silently down her cheek, as she nodded and looked up
at the ceiling. His face came into her view, his eyes dark with something
she had never seen before in them. "All will be well. You will see." He
bent and gave a swift kiss to her forehead, before straightening and walking
away from her.
She could hear him rummaging around in his desk as he spoke. "I will need
to bind you for this procedure, for your own good, Isabelle. I would hate
for you to become agitated at any time and move, for then I may cut you with
the razor. I have found in the past that this works much better. Remember
God is watching. He knows everything, and He will know that you are trying,
and He will forgive you for your past sins, Isabelle. Your place in Heaven
is not yet lost. I can restore it, if you try, and you listen to me."
He soon returned and knelt once more between her legs. For a moment he just
surveyed the two heavy wing back chairs which were on either side of the
table. Normally they were used for a private conference between two people.
The table which she now way laying on was used to put papers and such
things. Isabelle tried to picture how it would look in a normal setting,
not with her displayed so prominently. It helped to calm her frazzled
nerves.
Her musings were interrupted as Father Rick took a hold of her knees once
more, and slid her to the edge of the table, so her buttocks just slightly
hung off the edge. He took hold of first one ankle, wrapping a rope around
it and stretching it as far open as he could before adjusting the chair so
that it stood beside the coffee table as he desired, and fastened the other
end of the rope to it. Father Rick repeated the process on the other side.
Through it all, Isabelle gazed at the ceiling. Never had she felt so
utterly exposed in her life. She had never let another look at the hidden
treasure between her legs. She kept that secret, a place for her future
husband to one day explore. To be lying here like this, vulgarly displayed
humiliated her as nothing else could have. She thought this was the worst.
She was wrong.
When he was finished with her legs, he came to stand at her head once more.
"Give me your wrists, Isabelle."
She looked up at him, confused. "But why? Surely my legs are enough.
I..."
"And if you become weak and try to stop me from my appointed task? You may
attempt to sit up and thwart my purpose. I will save you, Isabelle,
especially since it is clear that you cannot save yourself. You cannot be
trusted in this. You have failed so utterly in the past." His voice was
harsh and unforgiving, accusing her of the sins which she had committed.
Without another word, she raised her hands to him, lacing her fingers
together. "Good girl. You will see. I will rescue you from the gates of
Hell." He reached over and picked up her tie, which was lying on top of her
pile of clothes. Deftly, he wrapped it several times around her wrists and
secured it to one of the table legs beneath her. "You will thank me for
this one day, Isabelle."
She was too stunned to say anything. It still felt so unreal. Like it was
happening to someone else, and she was simply watching. Isabelle tugged on
all her bonds, but found that Father Rick had done an excellent job, and she
could not move at all.
She saw the scissors in his hand, and for a moment felt a surge of panic.
He was not intending to cut her, was he? That was not how one purged sins,
was it? She opened her mouth to speak, when he held some of her hair in one
hand, and cut it as short as possible with the other. Letting out a sigh of
relief, Isabelle relaxed a little, feeling the knots in her stomach uncoil.
She found herself drifting almost peacefully, letting him go about his work.
This was not so bad. Until the unexpected coldness touched her.
Instinctively she pulled against the bonds, more in shock than an attempt to
escape. Father Rick made a tisking sound, which Isabelle knew was an 'I
told you so.'
He ignored her attempts at moving and concentrated on the task ahead of him,
rubbing the shaving cream into her skin. A shiver ran down her spine as he
touched her labia, working up a nice latter. Her breathing quickened. A
vague thought that he should not be touching her so entered her mind. But
he was wearing gloves. It was like going to the doctor. This was just a
necessary procedure that needed to be done. Only...it seemed to be taking
an awfully long time. She could feel a heat spread through her body, and
Isabelle felt ashamed again. She really was a sinner, for she should not be
enjoying his touch. He said not a word, as he intently went about his
business, his goal the only thing in his mind. The razor was sharp, and
glided easily over her tender skin. He was careful not to nick her, his
strokes firm and smooth, full of confidence, as if he had done this many
times before.
Eventually he seemed satisfied with his work and took a soft towel to her,
firmly wiping off the shaving cream. She saw him pick up a second towel,
and he started to rub it over her skin again. This time it was gentle,
lightly caressing her flesh. Isabelle sucked in a breath, suddenly unable
to move even if she wanted to, as a delightful tingle spread over her body.
She opened her eyes and lifted her head, looking at Father Rick. He was
watching her intently. Her cheeks flamed again. He knew. He knew she was
enjoying it.
He removed the towel, his gaze dropping from her face to the mound that was
now open, exposed to him. A shudder of fear ran through Isabelle. She felt
so helpless, so vulnerable. Shame washed through her. She should never
have contemplated naughty thoughts of Father Rick. She should never have
wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. She was bad. Oh so bad. And
she deserved this humiliation. This degradation: to be shaven and bared to
a man's eyes. But especially this man. This holy man.
Isabelle let her head drop back on the table and willed it to be over. She
closed her eyes tightly and prayed. She prayed she would pass this test, be
able to simply get up, and leave as soon as possible. She prayed no one
else would see her like this. She prayed the ground would just open up and
swallow her into its dark abyss.
Gloved fingers moved to separate her inner labia, and she heard the sharp
intake of his breath. That could not be good. "You're wet, Isabelle. Do
you know what that means?" She could tell from the sound of his voice that
it was bad, whatever it was. Her throat tightened, and she could not
answer. "I need to assess just how bad the problem is. Hold still now."
For a moment Isabelle pretended she was at the doctor, as Father Rick gently
eased a finger inside her. He just put it inside, not moving it at all, and
she let out a sigh of relief. That wasn't so bad. It was just like being
examined by a physician.
Then his finger moved. It was stroking the inside of her flesh, caressing
the tight walls that sheathed it. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. She
couldn't think. She could only feel. Her whole body began to tremble,
shaking with the effort not to enjoy these strange new sensations that were
coursing through her body, as his fondling continued, and he eased a second
finger inside her.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" His tone was accusing, but Isabelle
knew there was no point in denying it. She was sure he could see straight
into her soul.
"Yes, Father."
"It is wrong, you know. You should not like it."
"I know Father, but I cannot help it."
SMACK! The impact of the blow made Isabelle jump in her bonds, pulling
against the ropes that held her helpless. SMACK! The ruler descended
again, on her inner thigh. All the while, his fingers continued with their
delicious torture. "Please...stop." She didn't know if she meant the
hitting or the touching. Perhaps it was both. But at the same time, a part
of her cried in protest, wanting it to never end.
"I will purge you of your sins. I will save you, Isabelle."
The ruler descended mercilessly, blow after blow, until both her legs were
bright red. Isabelle started to sob, as the pain became more and more
intense. At the same time, something strange was happening to her body.
Each touch of his fingers, deep inside her, became more pronounced. It was
as if she had been blind before, and now she could see. Only this was
feeling. She could feel his touch, like nothing else she had ever
experienced. It was exquisite. Her whole body throbbed, pulsed with life.
His blows were lighter now, but it mattered not. Her reddened flesh felt it
the same as if he had used all of his strength. Her hips rose, up and down,
as much as the rope would allow, in time with the striking ruler.
"Isabelle, Isabelle. What am I going to do with you?"
His thumb moved, brushing higher, along the outside of the swollen little
mound of flesh. Isabelle screamed, her womb contracting violently, clamping
down on the fingers inside her. Frightened by the intensity of what she was
feeling, she knew she had to make him stop. Something was happening to her,
something she could not control. It scared her, more than the thought of
going to Hell. "Please...you have to stop. Please, Father. PLEASE!"
"I cannot. Not until you have learned your lesson."
Tears flowed down her cheeks even though the ruler had stopped. Now all
that existed was the movement of his fingers and that of his thumb as it
traced small circles, rubbing her over and over again. Her head tossed from
side to side, as she ineffectively struggled in her bonds, desperate to get
away before she embarrassed herself completely. Something bad was
happening. She could feel it, the tension growing inside her. The urgency
for...she was not sure what. But it was there, and she needed to make it
stop. "I will do anything you ask of me, Father! Just stop...please, oh,
please!"
His only response was to move his fingers faster, as they drew back and
thrust into her tight canal. "Oh, God, help me! Please, make him stop!"
"That's it, Isabelle," Father Rick encouraged. "Pray to God. Pray for him
to save your soul."
The throbbing had become unbearable. A warmth started in her feet and
slowly made its way up her legs, her whole body shaking uncontrollably. The
fire licked at her flesh, consuming all her thoughts, until there was
nothing left but its heat, warming her as nothing else ever had. Her hips
rose off the table, although she did not consciously remember lifting them,
as a scream was torn from her lips, and she was floating. The most
delicious sensations filling her body, taking over, until nothing else
mattered. Not her shaven pussy, not her sins, not the thought of going to
Hell, and indeed, not even the thought of Father Rick. The world ceased to
exist outside of what she was feeling. Never had she felt anything more
wonderful in her entire life.
She did not remember being untied, or even his hands as they compassionately
dressed her in her clothes. It was only as his warm body enveloped her in a
hug that Isabelle seemed to come back to herself.
Father Rick held her gently in his arms. "You did well, Isabelle. Now you
know the temptation of evil and what to avoid. I will help you. You will
come to me every Monday, and we will work on this problem together, until
you can control your emotions. I will save you, Isabelle. No matter what."
Shaken and drained, Isabelle only nodded. He helped her up with a smile,
and set her backpack over her shoulder, leading her to the door. "You did
wonderfully. It was a great first step, Isabelle. Now, go and walk with
the peace of God."
